


Happiness

by Smol_Irish



Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-19
Updated: 2019-10-19
Packaged: 2020-12-24 08:11:04
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,282
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21096236
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Smol_Irish/pseuds/Smol_Irish





	Happiness

Anthony J Crowley was a demon who had lived on earth for many millennia; back from the time of Adam and Eve. He rarely experienced the emotion they called happiness. Until he met his angel. With his angel by his side it was hard for him to not feel happy. 

-

He sighed flipped a coin over and watching it rattle onto the tabletop before him. Waiting was definitely the worst part of his week. Crowley growled and kicked his chair back from the dark table; spinning around and leaping to his feet. He paced back and forth before the telephone waiting on any sign of a phone call. Maybe if he miracled a reminder the angel would remember about his existence and save him from the boredom he was drowning in. 

"Stupid Angel has no considerations for the fallen who just want company, does he?" Crowley groaned throwing himself backwards into his chair again. The chair rolled back and hit into the table with a clink. As if by cue the phone started to ring and he scrambled across the desk to reach it immediately. He stopped to collect himself and sighed. He gently picked up the phone and placed it to his ear. 

"Yelloo, you've reached Anthony J Crowley, how can i help ya?" He answered in a relaxed tone, despite his body being tense and waited in hope on the one person he wanted to hear from speak. 

"Ah, uh, hello Crowley! It's uh, me! Newton!"

Crowley scowled. This kid and his witch usually meant trouble, but despite that they were quite good friends..

"What do you want Newt; I'm waiting on an important call."

"Oh uh, it's about Aziraphale.. he was helping us with the new nursery and uh apparently i didn't fix the shelf in tight enough.. it kinda gave him an awful whack on the head and he's unconscious and I don't exactly know how to help an angelic being and Anathema isn't really much help at the minute with the pregnancy and I really didn't kn-" Newton gushed across the phone. 

Uh.. Crowley? Are you still there..?" 

The chair was left spinning in circles and the plants trembling. A small path of smoking footprints left strides down the hallway and the Bentley could be heard roaring in the distance. The phone line went dead. 

-

Crowley didn't even knock on the door to the cottage. He marched through the door and up the stairs to the room he knew was the nursery. In the corner sat Anathema on a chair looking worried at a pale figure laying on the ground with an ice pack pressed to his forehead by the perpetrator and his head resting on a pale blue pillow. The angels pale locks where rust red with flecks of gold shining through them at the top of his head and pristine white at the sides. There was a small grey facecloth pressed against his head that was also held by Newton. 

"What have you done?" Hissed Crowley sharply shoving Newton back from the unconscious angel. 

"I-it was an accident I swear!" Newton gulped edging backwards across the floor as Anathema rolled her eyes at his fear of the demon. 

"Crowley it was a silly accident; can you fix him or not?" She groaned rubbing circles into her aching temples. 

"I can't miracle it fixed; he's an angel! I can take care of him though until he wakes up I guess." Crowley leant and scooped up the angel softly in his arms, cradling him close to his chest. 

"Please do tell us if he makes a speedy recovery Crowley; this is really not good for my stress levels." Anathema murmured easing herself off the chair to ensure they got out the door safely and into the Bentley without further injury. 

-

Crowley had decided that the bookshop was the best place to take the sleeping angel. Aziraphale would be far more comfortable in his own dwellings than the strange and unfamiliar setting of his flat after all. Lifting the sound angel out of the Bentley he marched up the steps of the shop and stormed into the main room, through the doors that had miraculously opened for him. The doors closed with a sharp thud and the bookshop bell echoed throughout the store almost eerily. Crowley lay the angel softly along the vintage leather sofa in the backroom and busied himself with getting bandages and a washcloth to clean the gash on the angels head. He lifted the angels head softly and slid in under it resting his head on his lap. Gently, he began to dab at the cut between the angels small curls. Crowley finished cleaning the wound and gently wrapped a bandage along the top of his head tucking it neatly under the back of his neck and sighed. 

"Now what?" He muttered to himself tapping his foot softly. He slid off the chair and placed a small cushion under the sleeping angels head, walking into the kitchen. Crowley boiled the kettle and placed a small amount of tea leaves into a strainer then carefully poured water over them. He carefully added milk and sugar then stirred it gently. In another cup he made a very strong coffee. He stirred it hard and watched as the coffee spilt over the edges of the cup. Lifting the two mugs he walked back into the sitting room where the angel had just started to stir. With a small groan the angel lifted his head and blinked scanning the room. Murmuring something about sensing evil he glanced behind him. Crowley chose this as his chance to make a dramatic entry and sauntered into the room before throwing himself in an armchair beside the sofa holding the cups perfectly still and throwing his legs closed. 

"Well well look who finally woke up, sleepyhead!" He smirked hearing his voice waver slightly. 

The angel blinked at him before groaning and reaching for his head. 

"Ugh, I should have knew this had something to do with you Crowley, you're always up to no good aren't you?" Aziraphale spoke strained and placed his head back against the cushion. 

"Noo angel, I had nothing to do with it! I'm shocked you would think I would hurt you!" Crowley feigned shock sliding the teacup softly over the table to beside the sofa. "It was Newt's fault. And no harm to you but we're lucky it happened to you! Imagine if the shelf had of hit Anathema!" 

The angel smiled softly and proper himself up again reaching for the teacup with shaky hands. Before he could grab it the teacup was removed from the table and the cushion removed from under his head. Instead of hitting into cold hard leather, the angel fell against a soft jacket.

"Easy there angel, don't want you burning yourself next." The demon handed him the cup and wrapped his arm around Aziraphale softly. "I still can't believe you ditched me for Newton and Anathema! Serves you right for getting a bang on the head." The demon jokingly huffed as the angel snuggled carefully into his side. 

"Oh gosh, I forgot about our plans again didn't I? My minds not the same as it was a few millennia ago." The angel responded softly taking a gentle sip from his tea. "I do have to admit though dear, you have gotten a lot better at making tea!"

The demon chuckled placing his coffee cup on the table and leaning his head softly on the angels head, avoiding the bandaged wound and placing a gentle kiss amongst his hair. 

This one one of the very fleeting and few times he felt true happiness.


End file.
